Long Live The Queen
by The cursed child
Summary: He screamed in pain and misery, she sits on her throne with a smug smile on her face.


**A/N For my NCIS subscribers, and any new readers. Enjoy this one!**

When Shannon and Kelly are murdered, he is overseas. The news takes a while to reach him, and when it does, he doesn't really understand it at first. For every single one of his tours he has anticipated that soldiers would arrive at his house in uniform, Shannon seeing their grave expressions through the glass of the front door and dropping whatever she's holding at the time. He always imagined that her hand would clasp over her mouth to hide the expression of grief from their daughter to protect her for a few extra seconds. Of course, Kelly knows the signs as well as her mother, and would know the truth as well. He would have died in action, his coffin on the way home.

Not once did Gibbs consider that the same might happen to him. His commanding officer comes to his desert-worn tent in person, an honor that no other soldier has yet been treated with. The one-time occurance puts him in a state of tense antcipation. Adrenilane hits him, the natural drug spreads through his system and makes him feel as though he is holding his rifle, breathing in and out until he pulls the trigger and kills. He's only ever felt like this during combat, which means that nothing good is coming.

"I'm so sorry, Gunny," the man says, not meeting his subordinate's eyes. Gibbs considers it funny that his superior has already done this dozens of times, but doesn't dare to look at him. The marine doesn't really know why he is so intimidating to a man ten years older. Maybe it is his silence, the tiny amount of words he speaks in a month. It freaks a lot of people on base out, makes them uncomfortable. Maybe it is his skill with long-range weapons, his deadly accuracy.

It's only once he has considered the behaviour that he realises someone he knows has died, and that his CO is not apologising, but giving his condolences. His first thoughts go to his dad, who has never been the healthiest, especially not since his mom died, but he knows it is even worse than that.

With trouble breathing, he asks the question he does not want an answer to. "Shannon or Kelly?" He stands frozen, waiting for his life to end. He doesn't have to wait for the next words. Grieve has already overtaken his mind and body. There is no best case scenario here, either death will have the exact same impact.

"Jethro," his CO halts, like he doesn't know how to bring the news. He takes a deep breath and tries again. "They're both gone." Because gone sounds better than dead, or crushed beyond recognition. The man thinks it might lessen the blow, it doesn't. A truth like this can't hurt less because the messenger uses pretty and gentle words.

They send him home, and he doesn't speak a word. Revenge keeps him going, gets him out of bed in the morning, wandering through the house to remind himself that justice hasn't been served yet. Never aimlessly, but looking for clues and keeping the fire in his veins going.

Franks tries to help, but he is blind. The agent only hears, relies on sounds, Gibbs rarely makes any.

When he finds the bastard, he sets of to Mexico, where he lies on a hill covered in camouflage. The car with Pedro Hernandez makes its way down the road and his rifle follows the movement until the interior of the vehicle is covered in blood.

He screams.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs is a hypocrite. He spends every year after his voice echoes through the sky chasing down murderers. Motives roll by, each one crazier than the last. Whenever someone kills for justice when the system fails their loved ones, he doesn't empathise. They disgust him, maybe because they remind him of his day on the hill. No matter how they spin it, vengeance is never good enough, the story never sounds like the end justifies the means.

Jenny Shepard has a story like that, and he hates her for it. Not for the reasons she thinks, no. He hates her because when he tried to satisfy that raging inferno of hate and pain, he left with an empty feeling and came home to an empty house full of memories tainted by death.

The red-head, though, came away from her brief descent into darkness with satisfaction. Her reputation saved, her tormentor dead by her hand, and her daddy avenged. He wonders if revenge is indeed a dish best served cold, if he should have waited, let the inferno cool until they were embers and then set them alight anew, preserved the feeling instead of chasing it to the edge of his conscious and further.

Just like he isn't fair to his suspects, life has not been fair to him. He could have had what Jenny has now. Gained something from Hernadez' death instead of losing his soul along with his wife, child and job.

No matter how much he wants to, he can't change what happened, and that is why they are on the opposite sides of the desk in her office. After a decade of partnership, they are divided by the similar secrets that should have united them. He hates her.

He screamed in pain and misery, she sits on her throne with a smug smile on her face.

"Long live the queen."


End file.
